


A Vigil For Sleeping Beauty

by Wallwalker



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alpha Timeline, Community: bucketlist, Consent Issues, F/F, Unconscious Character, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-08
Updated: 2012-04-08
Packaged: 2017-11-03 06:52:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/378553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wallwalker/pseuds/Wallwalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why does watching the Maid of Life as she slumbers bring her peace?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Vigil For Sleeping Beauty

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Bucketlist](http://bucketlist.dreamwidth.org) (although I did change my title; this one makes a bit more sense. Maybe.)

The White Queen tells herself it's because of the long wait, because she's nervous about what Derse will do, given the time to stew and scheme before the war could properly begin. She tells herself that she's only trying to keep her people's heroes alive. She tells herself that, but she finds herself drawn to the Maid nonetheless, for reasons that she cannot put into words. 

So she stands at the door to her room, sometimes, when she is sure that no one else is watching. She watches the Maid in turn as she lies in her bed, slumbering, chest rising and falling gently as she breathes. She is beautiful, her face untroubled by her waking dreams, short black hair spread out across her pillow.

There's so much life inside of her. So much vibrant, beautiful life. She's watched her grow up for so many years, ever since she was brought to them by the falling stars, clothed in her magical glowing golden robes.

More than anything, she wants to see her open her eyes.

\---

She's not sure why she goes to see the Maid of Life in her room more and more often, recently. She has never gone to see the Page in his room; he sleeps more restlessly, his hands clenching and unclenching in his dreams, and she watches from a distance as he tosses and turns, but it's never the same.

It's simple enough, at first. She stands at the doorway, watching her sleep. She looks so quiet, so peaceful... she's growing up, her arms and legs long and shapely, plump and curvaceous in her robes. She's so different from the people of Prospit, her skin rosy-pink, her hair dark, her eyes hidden by sleep and her glasses. Such a fascinating girl, she thinks, a small smile on her face.

What sort of life does she live in her waking hours, as she waits for the games to begin? What does she do? Is she an innocent girl, with that same innocent smile? Or is she a dangerous hellion, full of passion and fire and life? She wishes that she could stare up at the clouds and see their lives and futures, but that is a blessing reserved for the dreamers. 

The game that they're playing... she knows how dangerous it will be. She wants to see the future, at least so that she will know that the Maid of Life will have a chance. But she cannot, and all that she can do is hope as hard as she can that all will be well.

\---

One night, almost two and a half years after the cold war began, she walks into the Maid's room and stares at her for a very long time.

Her husband is gone, off to oversee the army that itches for a beginning to the long and epic conflict of light versus darkness. They might not, if they suspected what she suspects... but then, she has been afraid of a great many things. She keeps hearing whispers of strife on Derse, and a new, terrifying power that is rising there.

Her worry makes her wander. What she wonders is why she has wandered here, of all places - why does only the sight of this girl comfort her, and put her mind at ease? Although she is no longer a girl now, she corrects herself; she is not far from being an adult. What will this young one be like, the Queen wonders, when she is a woman?

She gently steps over to the side of her bed, moving as quietly as she can; it's an empty gesture, she knows that she won't wake her, but she can't help herself. Violating such peaceful sleep... the very thought is blasphemy. Thrilling, beautiful blasphemy. 

Just sitting down next to her calms her jangled nerves. She reaches out, brushes her hand against the woman's untroubled forehead, and wishes she could sleep so deeply and so well.

\---

Her people form exhausted, tearful crowds in the streets, carrying the coffin of the Page of Hope. No one knew what had happened to him; as far as her people knew he had simply died peacefully in the night.

The Queen knew better. She'd heard the whispers, the fear. She knew about the agents, the plots. She couldn't tell how, but she knew that the Black Queen was responsible, and her agents. But it's best not to terrify her people, and so she says nothing of it; she speaks only a few simple words at the young man's burial. She does not trust herself to say all that she wants to say, or she is afraid that the empty words of hope that she tries to speak will be replaced with the words that have been echoing in her mind all day.

_The Page is dead. The Queen has failed._

Once the speech is done she flees. Soon she finds herself in the Maid's room, nearly blind with despair. Their hopes were gone, the hearts of the people full of pain and anguish. She should be down with them, comforting them, not kneeling down next to the Maid in tears.

If only she would open her eyes. If only she would wake and tell her that it wasn't real, that everything was going to be all right. She might even believe it, if it came from her.

She's so lonely. So lost. Her husband gone, her life turned upside down by this murder, Dersite agents wandering her nation and her own people powerless to stop them... this was the only place where her life made sense anymore, the only place that she could find any peace. 

She settles down in the bed and curls up next to her, pulling the Maid's head against her chest, kissing her on the top of her head, and wonders. What would it feel like to have her arms wrapped around her, her lips warm and awake and kissing her shining white carapace. She wants to know if her hands are as strong as they are soft. She wants to hear her voice saying her name, the secret name that no one else will say, not even her husband - wants to hear her voice, imagines it like a golden bell ringing in the bright sky. 

But all she can do for now is kiss her, stroke her sleeping face - not a stir, not even a whisper - and dream of seeing her open her eyes and smile at her. She won't let Derse take her away. She'll make sure of it. She won't fail her like she failed the Page of Hope.

\---

She has nothing to lose now.

The feeling is strange, and she knows it to be false, but she doesn't care. She feels empty now that the Maid of Life has been declared dead, and yet that somehow fills her with more rage than she has ever felt before.

And yet... she refuses the thought that such a brightly-burning candle can be so easily extinguished. She can't believe it, not until she sees her lying there with her own eyes. The sight will hurt her more than she can imagine, but she needs to know.

When she finally catches up to her, she sees the Dersite agent standing behind her, ready to finish what he started - and that is when something inside of her snaps at last. She has never been violent, has never been as angry as she had been at that moment. She had watched her for so many years and had never known what she would do if she saw her in danger, but now she finds that she is still capable of surprising herself.

Her scepter feels as light as a feather as she swings it through the air, and it connects with the agent's skull with an audible crack. He topples, and twitches as he falls to the floor. The Maid's expression never changes as he collapses.

The White Queen stands behind him with deep satisfaction, her scepter decorated with red blood and fragments of black carapace, and pushes him aside with no care for his safety. She reaches down, cups the beautiful Maid's face with her hands (she stirs in her sleep, and it is the first time she has ever seen her stir,) and allows herself to smile. The violence, strange as it was, was worthwhile, if it meant that she _could_ protect her. She could finally do what she had sworn she'd do from the very start. 

Nothing else was going to harm her. Not while she still drew breath.


End file.
